


with the sun in her hair, and in her smile

by LaraH_H



Category: Original Work
Genre: dancing gays. DANCING GAYSSS, fun fact: this was titled in my docs as 'fellas is it gay'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaraH_H/pseuds/LaraH_H
Summary: Despite everything, Desirée thinks she fell in love with Joan’s eyes first.
Relationships: desirée roux/joan vain, joan/desirée





	with the sun in her hair, and in her smile

[ _Despite everything, Desirée thinks she fell in love with Joan’s eyes first. Had she thought it possible to fall for her, she would’ve thought she’d have felt that first spark at the careful yet seemingly effortless articulation of her hands, or the strength and confidence in the movements of her legs- not that she didn’t find those things appealing, quite the opposite- but… well, the look in her eyes on that day was positively captivating._ ]

“Good morning, Ms Smith.” Desirée greets the woman behind the desk.

“Good morning Miss. Roux- another early start?” Ms Smith replies cheerily, though tiredness hangs under her eyes in dark half-moons. 

“No more than usual.” She responds primly, “The same could be said of you.”

“Ahh, well I’m slightly behind on some things, so I might as well catch up before the workload becomes too much. I’d tell you not to push yourself too hard, but I’d only be wasting my breath, hm?”

“Probably.” Ms Smith only chuckles at her answer, waving her forward. Desirée offers her a ‘have a good day’ before setting off down the studio hall. Which room to pick… Abruptly, she spies a slant of sunshine cutting across her path like a blade of light. The source comes from the studio just ahead, to her right, or more specifically, the slightly ajar door.

Desirée pauses with the sun resting over her feet. 

_'Surely just a peek would be fine…’_

Leaning forward to look through the gap in the door, her breath catches in her throat.

It’s Joan. Dressed in her usual practice gear, she seems to be setting up the speakers sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. The morning sun catches in her hair as she straightens. It threads itself between her locks, turning fine blonde hair golden. Even Desirée can’t help but acknowledge that Joan is a beautiful woman- though it’s a thought she’ll take to the grave. 

With the click of a button, soft music begins to fill the space, and Joan starts dancing. 

Dancing _their_ waltz. And Desirée realises she’s never seen Joan dance it before, not really. Every time they practice, she’s always focused on matching the rhythm, bending just so in an elegant push-and-pull, that she’s never actually been able to fully appreciate how she dances it.

It’s hypnotising to watch her. Purposeful strides, restrained yet confident. Neck elongated slightly for a subtle, dignified air. Head tilted down to- Desirée assumes- lock eyes with an imaginary partner. And her arms rest on empty space, as though to cradle someone about Desirée’s size and build. 

1, 2, 3, 4… quick steps carry her across the floor as though floating, a deliberate ease in every movement, so careful that if Desirée didn’t have a well-trained eye, she’d believe it took no effort at all. 

All too soon, the last notes fade out, though they still ring in Desirée’s ears, the twinkling of piano keys and smooth strokes of a bow on violin strings bouncing about her brain. Then Joan drops her arms, meeting her eyes. 

Again, sunlight catches on her face as she turns, warmth pooling in her irises and an easy grin curving her lips. One of those graceful hands prop themselves on her hip. 

**Ba-dump**

Desirée is motionless as a pang of… something, shoots through her chest. What the…?

“Are you planning on just watching me all day? I would've thought you were here to practice.”

She jolts hard, hitting her head on the door.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Joan puts her hands up with a concerned look on her face. Desirée’s cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I-I’m fine.” She shoves the door open fully, striding into the studio with as much confidence as she can muster even as her face still feels hot, “I was just watching you for mistakes. On the eighth measure, the arc of the turn was wide by about a centimetre. Not to mention, at the two minute mark, your timing was off by a half-second-” Desirée continues to list tiny errors she’d spotted. She half expects Joan to get pissy with her, but instead she nods along, listening intently. 

“Right, got it. Now it’s your turn.” 

“…Huh?”

“You spotted me, now I can spot you- you know, help you pick up on things you might not realise you’re doing.” Joan elaborates. Ah. That made sense. Desirée nods, taking up her position in the centre of the room. Arms up, holding them in a stance she knows from muscle memory and waits for the first few notes. When they come, she closes her eyes, exhales, and loses herself in the music. 

One step back, side, basic box step, twirling, moving backwards now, watch the arms, tilt the head just so, smile coyly, stepping lightly now, be like the air that settles silently around you, turn just so that your hair fans out gracefully behind you, one step forward, keep your shoulders relaxed- Every second, every breath must be measured and elegant, yet with a trace of playfulness. She imagines herself at a ball, a thousand noble’s eyes on her, but she only has eyes for her ‘prince’. That is the story she must tell without a single word. 

Then the last dregs of music are dissipating, and Desirée returns to herself. Not in the ballroom of a beautiful castle full of rustling silks and twittering nobles, but in a dance studio with the sun at her back. The only eyes on her here are Joan’s. Desirée glances over at her to gauge her reaction. 

Joan stands there, slack-jawed wonder on her face.

“So that’s what you look like when we dance…” She murmurs, and Desirée breaks eye contact immediately, flushing. 

“So how did I screw up- and don’t try and spare my feelings or anything! I can take it.” Desirée demands, desperate to change the subject before she bursts into damn flames.

“I… uh… wasn’t really paying attention to that… Can you do it once more? Please?” Joan looks sheepish, a blush settling on her face. 

“Geez! At least look at me properly if I’m dancing for you! That’s pretty disrespectful!” Desirée huffs, folding her arms over her chest.

“Oh, I was looking. Trust me.” There’s a look in Joan’s eyes as she says that Desirée can’t place, but it makes her stomach do a funny flip. She’s never seen her look at anyone like that before and…

“I want you to only look at me like that.” She whispers to herself.

“Hm?”

“N-Nothing! I’ll only do it once more, so make sure to look for any mistakes properly, okay! Don’t waste my time!”

“Alright, alright, I promise.” Joan laughs, and Desirée hurriedly retakes her position. Whatever it is, it can wait. 

_[Later, Desirée was to pinpoint this moment as the very second something began to take root inside her, a fragile attraction that was to later bloom into a deep, unshakeable affection. Of course, at the time, she’d refused to so much as acknowledge that anything had changed even slightly- but after that day, well, it was only a matter of time before she fell for Joan, bit by bit, step by step.]_


End file.
